


Too GoodTo Be True

by Avoca



Category: Alias Smith and Jones
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-12
Updated: 2011-10-12
Packaged: 2017-10-24 13:39:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/264077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avoca/pseuds/Avoca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's all going well for the boys for a change but suddenly Kid is injured and it's up to Heyes to save the day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too GoodTo Be True

Too Good To Be True

Thanks to my Beta Lyn

Chapter One

It seemed like everything was going their way lately. That’s what had Hannibal Heyes worried; it was too good to be true and one of the things his pragmatic father had instilled in him as a small child was the old maxim ‘if it seems like it’s too good to be true then it is’. Heyes shifted in the saddle and turned to look over his shoulder where his partner Kid Curry was riding his dark golden brown gelding just a few paces behind him. Curry’s hat was tilted to keep the worst of the sun’s glare out of his eyes and he moved in harmony with his mount. Heyes turned forward in the saddle again but didn’t increase his horse’s steady pace.

“All right, Heyes, what’s going through your mind?” Curry’s voice drifted in the quiet afternoon air.

“Nothing, Kid, nothing at all. I’m just thinking about how good things have worked out lately.”

“Nope! You ain’t, Heyes, you’re fretting about the fact that we have money in our pockets and that we haven’t been shot at or chased by a posse in the last ten days.” Kid’s tone was light but he pushed his hat further up off his forehead as he spoke and sat upright in the saddle.

“I don’t know where you got that idea, Kid.”

“You always fret when you’ve got nothing to worry over.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“No, it doesn’t but it’s what you always do.”

“No, I mean what you just said doesn’t make sense, how could I be fretting if I have nothing to worry over?”  
“I know you, Heyes and all I know is that’s what’s happening now. I can’t explain it but I know it.” With that Curry pulled the brim of his hat down lower and urged his horse on so that he passed Heyes and took up the lead.  
Heyes smiled as he studied the back of his partner. As usual Kid was right but he’d be damned if he’d ever let him know that.

Two hours later as the afternoon was giving way to a warm evening, the town of ‘Apple Grove’ came into sight. Heyes caught up with his partner and he read the words on the small wooden sign nailed to a stake on the outskirts of the town.

“Apple Grove, population 156, Sheriff, Tom Bodley. Well, our luck seems to be holding I never heard of Tom Bodley, did you?”

“No, can’t say I have.” Curry’s blue eyes danced with pleasure at the thought of a hot meal, a warm bath and a soft bed.

They rode into the small town that resembled so many other towns they had ridden through, but for some reason instead of making their way to the hotel, Heyes nudged his horse towards the saloon and Kid followed his lead. “I feel like a beer” Heyes said to explain his action and Kid just nodded. They tied their mounts to the hitching rail outside the grandly named ‘Royal Saloon’ and Kid studied the town from under the brim of his hat as Heyes fussed with the tie of his saddle bag. Thinking about it later he couldn’t remember what he had needed to get from the bag but whatever it was it had given the young man coming out of the general store two doors away from the saloon time to see and recognize them.

The dark haired man was slightly younger than Kid but he recognized the ex-outlaws with the first glance. Ed McBain had been eighteen and travelling with his father when the Devil’s Hole Gang had held up their train. McBain remembered the cockiness of the outlaws and the terror of his father and how he had realized that his father was not the man he had believed him to be. McBain senior had virtually collapsed as the outlaws entered their compartment and the young man’s cheeks burned with shame once again as he recalled Curry striding through the train barking orders and smiling at the women but always in command of the situation. And how the outlaw had stopped at their seats when he saw the older man crouched and shaking with fear. Curry had smiled at the young man and said, “Look after your father, we’re only interested in the safe and we’ll be gone in a few minutes.” and he had walked on but hatred began to burn in Ed McBain that day. It was directed at his father because of his palpable fear but it was also aimed at the outlaw who had shown the boy that his father was not heroic but human. In the five years since the robbery Ed Mc Bain had become a hard man. He had begun to treat his father with contempt, and after hours spent practising his fast draw he had realized his talent lay in some other channel so he had put away the gun and adopted the knife and he was good with it; real good. The weapon suited the young man, it felt good in his hand and when the blade made contact, it slid in and did untold harm to its victim. McBain had never killed anyone but he had earned a reputation which meant that people in the small town stayed out of his way. While his father ran a large ranch out of town, the young man killed time until he knew the holding would be passed to him and then he would show people how a real man acted. McBain couldn’t believe his luck when he saw Kid Curry and Hannibal Heyes dismount in front of the saloon. Anger, which was never far from the surface pushed up through his veins and pumped through his body like molten lava. He clutched the hilt of his six inch dagger and marched towards Curry and Heyes.

Heyes finished with his saddle bag and joined his partner and they began the short walk to the saloon when suddenly a dark haired man appeared in front of them. Before either of them could react, the glint of sunlight hit the blade as a knife appeared in the man’s hand. Curry saw it first and as the blade cut through the air, he turned towards the right, away from his partner and tried to deflect it by bringing up his left hand. He acted on instinct trying to protect his partner though he didn’t realize the knife was aimed at him and not at Heyes, but the action worked in his favor and probably saved his life. McBain was so intent on sliding his knife into Curry that the last minute twist by his intended victim was enough to alter the course of the knife and instead of ploughing into Curry’s chest, it sliced into his left forearm.

Curry cried out as the knife cut through his flesh and Heyes kicked out at Mc Bain as he saw the knife enter his friend’s arm. McBain went down hard on his back against the swing doors of the saloon but instead of having the air knocked out of him, the jolt seemed to release the voice in his head and he shouted, “It’s Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry, don’t let those bastards get away, there’s rewards on their heads.”

Everything seemed to happen at once as McBain’s shout went up. Heyes saw blood spill from his partner’s arm as Curry tried in vain to hold it back with his right hand. Heyes grabbed at Curry’s shoulders and pulled him towards their horses, instinct took over and the two men scrambled into their saddles and headed out of town just as the saloon doors were flung open and McBain was helped to his feet by one of the patrons of the saloon. Another man pushed past them and ran into the street where he let off a few shots at the rapidly retreating backs of the ex-outlaws. The whole town seemed to come to life with shouts of ‘posse’ and ‘get the Sheriff’ filling the air as Heyes and Curry rode for their lives.

Heyes and Curry rode at furious speed for a few miles and then eased off to give their horses time to recover.

Heyes looked over at his partner. “What the hell was that about?”

“I’ve no idea; I didn’t recognize him, did you?”

“No, but he sure as hell knew us.” Heyes looked back over his shoulder and Curry stayed silent.

“How bad?” Heyes asked, turning his attention back to his partner.

“I’ve had worse” Curry said, stopping his horse and beginning to fumble at the bandana around his neck.

Heyes reined in beside him and leaned over as Curry pulled the bandana free from his shirt. “Here, let me see.” Heyes took the cheery piece of red material from his friend’s hand and gently took Curry’s left arm. Heyes ripped the bloody material of the shirt sleeve away from the wound and Curry hissed in pain as the cloth pulled free of the wound.

“Sorry,” Heyes muttered as he concentrated on the wound. “Kid, this is bad and you’re bleeding like a stuck pig.” He wound the bandana around the deep cut in Curry’s forearm and tied it in place but still blood seeped through the cloth, quickly turning it dark brown.

Curry bit down on the groan he felt and concentrated on not vomiting. He felt light - headed and Heyes seemed to be ebbing in his line of vision. He pulled his thoughts back to their predicament. “How long do you think it will take them to form a posse?”

Heyes placed Curry’s injured arm gently on Curry’s left thigh and looked at his friend. “I don’t know, maybe they won’t bother, we got a good head start, Kid and you have to agree our luck has been real good lately.” Heyes’s brown eyes looked back down the trail and not at his partner.

“Heyes, I think our luck just changed so we should ride and put some distance between us and the town.” Curry lightly kicked his horse’s flanks and moved off.

Heyes was beside him in a moment. “Are you going to be able to ride?”

“Yeah, it looks worse than it is and at least I don’t have a bullet in me this time.”

“All right but if you need to rest, you tell me before you fall off your horse.”

Heyes waited for Kid to make a snappy comeback but none came so he stole a glance at his partner and he didn’t like what he saw. Kid was white- faced and sitting rigid in the saddle. Kid was one of the liveliest men Heyes had ever seen and this silent, taciturn man did not resemble his partner, which meant Kid had to be a lot worse off than he was letting on.

Heyes turned his attention back to their most pressing problem; a posse. To that end he began rummaging in his saddle bag and slipped out a small brass eyeglass. It had been a present from Silky the last time they had seen him in San Francisco. Heyes pulled out the barrel of the object and it immediately lengthened to about eight inches. “Kid, you stay here, I’m going back to that last rise to see if there’s anything behind us.”

Curry stopped his horse and nodded his approval to Heyes who had already turned his mount around and was headed back the way they had come. Curry closed his eyes and swayed slightly in his saddle. He was annoyed at himself for feeling so lightheaded; he had suffered far worse injuries in the course of his outlawing days but this knife wound was hurting and he felt very woozy. He kept his eyes closed and waited for Heyes. After a few minutes he heard Heyes’s horse approach and he steeled himself to open his eyes though as he did so the ground tilted up to meet him and it took all of his determination to hang on and look alert for his partner.

Heyes reined in beside Curry. “There’s a cloud of dust a few miles back but even with Silky’s eye glass I can’t make out anything definite. I think we had better move and put some distance between us just in case.”  
Curry smiled as reassuringly as he could “Let’s go.” And with that the two riders took off at a brisk but not breakneck speed.

 

Chapter Two

The presence of a posse was confirmed for definite as the cloud of dust turned out to be four riders trailing the ex-outlaws expertly for miles. The ride was hard and tiring as the day settled into evening and still the pursuit continued. There had been a full moon a few nights previously but now it was beginning to wane, which held certain advantages for Heyes and Curry. It meant that the posse, although concerned with getting their prey, were not as desperate as the former outlaws and therefore eased up and rested when night fell. This gave the partners a chance to make up some ground although they had to slow the pace of their animals to avoid almost certain disaster. Finally when it was almost pitch dark Heyes reined in his mount and called for a much needed rest. The men slid off their horses and tied them to a nearby tree. Heyes pulled at some green grass that grew nearby and fed it to both mounts while Curry reached for the nearly empty canteens and stumbled his way to a small pool of water gathered in some rocks a few yards from where they had halted. His head ached while his left forearm throbbed incessantly and every step he took seemed to jolt the bloody wound. He yearned to lie down and sleep but that was impossible. He jumped as Heyes knelt down beside him. “I reckon we have about four hours before it will be bright enough to move on. You take the first couple of hours rest and I’ll call you.”

Kid handed him a newly filled canteen. “Two hours, Heyes and be sure to call me, you need to rest too.”

Heyes nodded and took a long drink from the canteen. Kid made his way back to his animal and untied his bedroll from his saddle. He planted the roll a few feet away from the horses and wrapped himself in the blanket. He was asleep within minutes.

Heyes knelt over the sleeping form of his partner. It was hard to make out any details of Kid’s face in the gloom of the night. Guilt tugged at Heyes as he laid a hand gently on Kid’s right shoulder. Heyes could guess how badly Kid needed to rest but it was over two hours since he had fallen asleep and Heyes knew he needed to get some rest himself if he was going to be able to evade the posse tomorrow. He shook Kid lightly, telling himself that, if Kid didn’t wake easily then he’d let him sleep and face his wrath when he woke later, but Kid stirred and opened his eyes. “Heyes, how long have I been asleep?”

“Just over two hours, are you okay to take watch or I could spell you a bit later?”

“No, I’m good. Get some sleep.” Kid eased himself up and bit down on a grunt as his arm made contact with the ground.

Heyes retreated into his own sleeping roll a few feet away from Curry as Kid tied his bedroll behind his saddle and made his way to a rock near the edge of their makeshift camp. He lay belly down on the rock and surveyed the darkness in front of him. Nights on the trail were never completely quiet with the sound of the nocturnal animals but an experienced man like himself soon became accustomed to what was normal. He settled in alert for any sound that disturbed the darkness. The hours passed slowly, his senses were on alert but his body ached. At last it was time to wake Heyes, which he did by calling his name.

Heyes woke immediately and wrapped his bed roll while Kid walked each horse to the small pool they had found in the rocks and allowed each animal to drink. Heyes was worried about his partner but he knew an even more pressing worry was the posse behind them. Heyes mounted his horse but with his back to Curry he didn’t notice the effort it took for Kid to mount up.

“I could sure use some coffee” Heyes said as they moved off in the waning darkness.

Curry ignored the coffee remark. “You want to take the lead and see if we can give these guys the slip?”

“Yeah, I’ll lead but stay close, Kid. At least we have been this way before.”

“It was after the raid on the bank in ‘Bright Water’, wasn’t it?”

“Sure was. I think we got about six thousand out of that safe.” Heyes looked over at his partner but Curry didn’t answer him. The man seemed intent on the trail so Heyes let it be and concentrated on keeping ahead of the posse.

They rode all day but the pursuit of the posse was relentless. They stopped for water three times and to give their horses short but much needed breaks. The posse was gaining on them; slowly the four riders behind them shortened the gap between them. To an inexperienced eye, the closure of the gap was almost invisible but the partners had outridden too many posses in their time not to be aware of what was happening. There was very little talk between them as both men concentrated on keeping ahead of their pursuers, and in Curry’s case, on just staying on his horse. Time and the chase were really taking a toll on the injured man. Heyes was aware of his partner’s reticence about his injury but he also knew that he had to get them away from the posse so he concentrated on that. Heyes used every trick he had learned over the years as an outlaw but still the pursuit continued and the gap between them grew smaller.

Heyes used the cover of an outcrop of rocks to watch the posse through his spyglass while Curry held his mount at the base of the rocks. After a few minutes Heyes scrambled back down to his partner. Curry handed him his reins. “How close, Heyes?” he asked his blue-eyed gaze steady.

“They’re getting closer, Kid. Their tracker is good and obviously experienced because they’re just riding at a steady pace and not getting excited by the pursuit. If you have any ideas now might be a good time to voice them.”

“Well I think if nothing we’ve tried has worked then maybe we should split up.” Seeing the uncertainty in Heyes’s eyes, Kid carried on, “That’s worked before and at least one of us is bound to get away, and with two trails to follow it would increase the odds in our favor” Curry wiped the right hand sleeve of his shirt over his face.

“I know we’ve had to do that a few times but it always makes me uneasy, and anyway, it’s not on when you’re injured” Heyes protested.

“Heyes, it’s a cut on my arm, it ain’t exactly life threatening so if that’s the only reason for not doing it then I think maybe we should.”

“Kid, I thought we had the perfect partnership; you shoot and I think so why change a winning hand?”

“Come on, let’s ride and talk at the same time, you can do that, can’t you?” With that Kid spurred his horse on and Heyes followed.

Heyes had a deep uneasy feeling in his gut that if they split up now he might never see his partner again and Heyes was a man who had learned to take his gut feelings seriously over the years. The conversation between them see-sawed as they rode, Kid didn’t want to be a burden to his partner and Heyes did not want to abandon his best friend to an unknown fate. If Heyes could have guaranteed that the posse would split and the tracker would come after him then he would have left Kid in a heartbeat but he couldn’t so there was no way he was leaving his injured friend to an uncertain destiny. As for Kid, he knew his strength was fading and he didn’t want to be a burden to Heyes His reasoning was that if they split, Heyes had a good chance of making a clear getaway and one of them getting away was a better outcome than could be comfortably predicted right now but he wasn’t sure he had the energy necessary to persuade Heyes.

After a few minutes the men gave up speaking and concentrated on moving ahead. A couple of miles further on and Heyes broke the silence. “You know if we head west we’ll come to the ‘Rio Loco’ and I think by the time we hit it, it would be nearly sunset and if we crossed it there’s no way the posse would be able to follow in the dark and by morning they know we’d have covered our tracks and be long gone.”

Curry laughed. “My Spanish might not be up to much but even I know what ‘Loco’ means and I’ve seen that river and I can’t help thinking it’s rightly named. So how do you propose we cross it, Heyes?”

“Well Kid, we’ve got one thing on our side.”

“I know I’m going to hate myself for asking but what have we got on our side?”

“Desperation, Kid.”

“There are times when I wonder why you’re the brains of this partnership. I ain’t ever heard tell that desperation will get you across a river.”

“Desperation got us out of the orphanage.”

“No, you got us out of the orphanage.”

“Kid, you know what I mean, things are pretty desperate and we’ve got to try something pretty drastic to get rid of that posse.” Heyes turned his horse westward and Curry followed his lead.

“All right, but at least tell me you have a plan.”

“I have; we reach the river before dusk and we cross, nothing could be more straightforward.”

“I think you’re leaving out details, like the width of the river and the strong currents.”

“Kid, we’ve crossed swollen rivers before.”

“All right, all right, you win. I don’t have the energy to argue but if I drown crossing that river, I’m coming back to haunt you, you hear that, Heyes?”

“I hear ya, Kid. Let’s move.”

 

Chapter Three

The ‘Rio Loco’ lay before the partners in all its glory. It was an awe inspiring sight. From their position on the bank they could make out the opposite shore but it seemed a long distance away. Neither man said anything they just sat and explored with their eyes the wide expanse of water in front of them. It was hard to tell much about the current from their location but it looked to be swift moving, which was only to be expected from such a wide river. Curry dismounted first and led his horse to the side of the river where the animal took a drink of the cool water. Curry hunkered down and ducked his head into the water and the liquid felt good against his hot skin, although the movement caused a flash of lights in front of his eyes and his head felt as if it might explode at any moment. He coughed and spit back up some of the cool water. He stood up slowly and using his horse as cover from Heyes, who had also moved to the water’s edge, examined his left arm. His bandana was stained russet from the blood and he gingerly moved the cloth away from the wound. Once again he nearly lost his battle to stay conscious as the tugging of the material opened the jagged cut. His arm was swollen and red; the edges of the wound were ragged; trails of red radiated from it and ran up his arm as far as his torn and ragged shirt sleeve would allow him to see. He closed his eyes to fight the pain and the almost incessant nausea. He was surprised when his arm was taken in a gentle hold. He opened his eyes to find Heyes’s worried brown eyes on him. “Here, let me see this.”

He tried to pull away but found he didn’t have the energy. “Heyes, we don’t have time for this. If we’re going to cross it has to be soon.”

“I know but this won’t take a minute.” Heyes returned to his saddle bag but he was back at Curry’s side in a moment. Once again he took Curry’s arm gently. “Do you want to sit down for this?” he asked

“No, there’s no time.”

Heyes smiled offering a reassurance he didn’t feel. He looked at his partner’s arm and he felt a cold chill on the back of his neck. The wound was infected and Heyes wasn’t sure how long it would be before they reached a town and hopefully a doctor but it wouldn’t do to let Kid now how worried he was.

“I’ll try not to hurt you” he said in his best poker bluff voice.

Heyes pulled his bandana from his neck and reached down to dampen it in the river. He washed the wound as well as he could, all the while conscious of how much pain his partner must be in, although Curry kept pretty quiet, only flinching once or twice as Heyes hit a particularly sore spot. Heyes tore a large piece of soft cloth from his spare Henley and covered the long gash then he tore several more strips of cloth and tied them around Curry’s forearm, covering the makeshift dressing as best he could. It was far from perfect but it was the best he could do given the circumstances.

“Thanks” Curry managed to say as he fought with all his might to stay vertical.

“Easy! Just take it easy, Kid. We can rest here for a few minutes.”

It seemed to Curry that Heyes’s voice was coming through a tunnel and the river in the background had faded until it was hazy and undefined. The only thing that felt solid and safe was Heyes’s presence. Curry leaned into that solidity and tried to gather whatever strength he had left. Heyes felt a moment of panic; what the Hell had he been thinking leading them to this river? Kid was barely able to stand up and now he would have to cross a river that many a full grown man would balk at, but before the panic could take wings, Curry straightened up and winked at him.

“Okay, let’s cross this damn thing.” And Curry was pulling away from him and reaching for his reins.

Heyes smiled. Curry struggled to mount his horse and Heyes helped him, inwardly flinching as a sharp hiss told him how badly his partner must be hurting. Heyes mounted up and they rode side by side to the water’s edge. Both horses stopped and softly nickered as if they had just become aware of what was being asked of them. Heyes and Curry exchanged a glance and drove their mounts on into the water. “See you on the other bank” Curry said as they moved off.

The crossing felt interminable though in fact it only took about ten minutes. Curry felt the coldness of the river against his pants legs and concentrated on staying on his horse as the animal moved into deeper water. Curry’s horse was buffeted by strong currents as the animal swam strongly toward the other shore and all the while Kid hung on; allowing instinct and self preservation to take over. It was impossible for him to watch Heyes. He just had to hope that his partner would make it across safely. The water rose higher on Kid’s horse as the animal swam, and the coldness of it chased the cobwebs from Kid’s mind. Finally Kid realized his horse was struggling up the bank; he had made it. Curry allowed his horse its head and the animal struggled to higher and drier ground, only stopping when it was clear of the river. Curry patted the neck of his mount and took control of the reins, turning the animal back towards the river. Heyes’s horse was struggling out of the water as Kid turned his horse towards him.

“We made it, Kid” Heyes said in relief. Heyes followed Curry’s horse tracks up the bank and pulled in beside his partner. “You ride on and find somewhere to make camp while I lay a few false trails down the bank, just in case that posse is fool enough to try and cross in the morning.”

Curry didn’t bother to answer, just nodded his head and moved off. Heyes backtracked down the bank and spent about half an hour making sure that it would be all but impossible for their pursuers to pick up their trail again. Satisfied with a job well done, Heyes took a circular route and picked up his partner’s tracks. He travelled for a few miles and it was almost full dark before he spotted the plume of smoke, indicating a camp fire. For the first time since he had crossed the river Heyes realized how cold and tired he felt and was comforted by the thought of some heat.

Curry had left the river bank and rode on for a few miles, his need to rest vying with his outlaw sense which told him he needed to travel far enough from the river so that he could light a fire without drawing attention. Finally he found what he was looking for a small copse just off the main track, which was sheltered but allowed a good view of anyone riding in the vicinity. He tied his horse to a tree but didn’t unsaddle it. He managed to find enough kindling and fallen logs to get a good fire burning within a short space of time. His actions were mechanical, based on years of setting up camps with a minimum of fuss. He managed to fill the coffee pot with water and set it to boil but suddenly he ran out of energy and all but collapsed near the fire. He knew he needed to take off his wet boots and change into his spare pants but he couldn’t make his body respond, instead he fell into a weary sleep.

Heyes tied his horse beside his partner’s and walked briskly to where Curry lay near the fire. Curry was locked in a world of fevered dreams and Heyes heard his friend’s moans as he approached him. By the light of the fire Heyes could make out Curry’s flushed face, and when he felt his friend’s forehead, he realized Curry was burning up. Heyes knelt down and tried to rouse his sleeping partner. “Kid, come on, you need to get out of those wet clothes.”  
But the only response he got was a mumbled “Later, Heyes.”

Heyes stood up and went to the horses. He retrieved the two saddle bags and the bed rolls, which, considering the ferocity of the river they had crossed, were reasonably dry. He hunkered down beside Curry, and with clumsy movements, succeeded in getting Curry’s boots, pants and long john bottoms off. Curry thrashed about and Heyes wasn’t sure if the younger man was trying to help or trying to evade Heyes’s hands. Eventually Heyes managed to push Curry’s legs into the long johns and ease them up to his waist. He pushed some warm socks onto Curry’s feet and eased him gently onto his bed roll. Next he pulled a blanket up over Curry’s lower body and then he turned his attention to the knife wound. Heyes eased the makeshift bandage off the wound, all the while gentling his friend with soft words. “Take it easy, Kid, you’re safe now and we’ll find a doctor in the morning who’ll fix you right up.”

Curry’s forearm was swollen, red and felt hot to the touch. The fine red threads coming from the site of the wound had increased in size and number and they snaked up his arm. Heyes once again used his spare Henley to clean and then bind the wound. Curry moaned as Heyes ministered to him but didn’t open his eyes. Finally Heyes pulled the blanket up to Curry’s chin and ran his hand across his forehead and eased some of the dark blond curls from his face. He poured some water into a tin mug and eased his friend into a sitting position, all the while supporting Curry’s head and shoulders. “Come on, Kid, you’ve got to drink some water.”

Curry opened his eyes and sipped the liquid which felt good against his dry lips, but too soon for Heyes’s liking, he closed his mouth and his head would have fallen back if Heyes hadn’t been holding him. Heyes eased him down and once again covered him.

Heyes set about changing into dry clothes and he put both his and Curry’s wet things near the fire to dry. He built up the fire, unsaddled the horses and settled them. He poured himself a cup of coffee and chewed on some hard tack. He was exhausted and even the coffee couldn’t rouse him from the stupor he felt in his limbs so tossing the dregs away he settled down and was asleep within minutes.

Curry spent the night restlessly engaged in fighting the fever demons as his body plunged from shivering cold to burning hot. His arm ached incessantly and several times he hurt it as he flailed in his bed roll. Near him Heyes lay wrapped in his own dreams, too deeply asleep to be roused by his friend’s sounds and yet he too was troubled by dreams he had not had in a very long time.

Morning brought light into the clearing, dappled but strong enough to break through Heyes’s dreams. He woke with a start pulled from dark nightmares and back into a reality that was almost as frightening. He heard Curry’s delirious moans and he was not reassured by what he saw as he knelt beside his friend. Curry was deep in the throes of a bad fever and guilt washed over Heyes as he realized he had slept through the night without being there for Kid. Heyes ran a damp bandana over Kid’s hot face and once more eased him into a semi sitting position as he tried to force water past Curry’s cracked lips. Curry moaned and opened his eyes but his gaze was unfocused as he tried to sip the cool liquid.

Heyes broke camp with expert ease, but it was a different story when it came to rousing his partner. There was no way that Curry could sit a horse by himself and Heyes struggled to pull and push him on to his horse and keep him there while trying to mount up behind him, all the while holding on to the reins of his own horse. Eventually they were ready to set out and Heyes realized he had not given a thought to the posse. His partner’s wellbeing took up all his thoughts; casting a glance down the trail towards the river, he hoped that the posse had called off the hunt. He pulled Kid’s body towards his chest, and pushing his partner’s hat forward, tried to find some way to settle them both for the ride ahead.

They had ridden for close on to two hours without seeing another traveller or even a homestead. Heyes knew that soon he would have to drag Curry from the saddle and change mounts to give the animal they were riding some respite. Kid had not regained consciousness in all that time. Instead he had drifted in a stupor, mumbling incoherently, and the heat radiating from his body frightened Heyes. Unconsciously Heyes tightened his hold on his partner as he looked for a clearing where they could begin the ordeal of changing horses and then he saw it; an opening up ahead to his right that looked suspiciously like a gateway. It was an entrance way, that became clear when Heyes’s horse drew level with it. A wooden fence ran along each side of an opening and a small sign was nailed to the right side of the fence. ‘Dr. Terence Bloom’ it proclaimed in bold white letters. Heyes laughed out loud and addressed his ailing partner “Our luck is back, Kid, just hold on for a few more minutes.” But Curry didn’t respond. Heyes spurred his horse and the one he was leading followed at a brisk trot. He rode up a cleared path and he could see a white stone house about 200 yards ahead. The house was medium in size and well maintained with checkered cotton curtains on the windows that faced the path. Heyes stopped his horse before the hall door and dismounted awkwardly trying to ensure that his partner did not fall off by allowing Curry’s upper body to lie against the horse’s neck. It wasn’t an ideal position for a wounded man but Heyes quickly looped his reins and that of the other horse over the conveniently placed hitching post. He was just about to turn towards the house when he heard an ominous sound he knew well; the cocking of a rifle. He raised his hands over his head as a man’s voice broke the silence. “All right, what is it you want?”

Keeping his hands in the air, Heyes turned towards the house and the man who held the rifle. “My friend here needs to see the doctor.”

“My God, as I live and breathe, it’s Hannibal Heyes.”

Heyes’s heart sank in his chest; it looked like his partner was right about their luck. Before Heyes could come up with a plausible denial the man put down his rifle and held out his hand to Heyes. “I bet you don’t remember me, I’m Hank McCabe.”

Heyes studied the man shaking his hand. He was shorter than Heyes by about a head, it was hard to say what age he was but he was certainly older than Heyes. He wasn’t wearing a hat and his silver grey hair was neatly trimmed while his moustache was a salt and pepper mixture of dark brown and grey. His face was deeply lined but his grey eyes were alive and friendly. Heyes recognized the name but his mind put a different picture to it than the face in front of him.  
Heyes smiled; maybe their luck really was changing. “You used to work in the ‘Lucky Bell’” Heyes shook the man’s hand with enthusiasm.

“You do remember me.” McCabe laughed. “I didn’t do much work but I did a hell of a lot of drinking.” His eyes locked on Heyes. “You and Kid treated me fair and I’ve never forgotten that.”

The mention of his partner’s name brought Heyes to his senses. He turned back to the horse. “Kid was knifed a few days ago and he needs a doctor real bad.”

Mc Cabe walked over to the horse. “The Doc’s away.”

“What?” Heyes asked, not really understanding what McCabe was saying.

“Dr Bloom is in San Francisco, there’s no one here but me.”

“Where’s the nearest doctor?”

“There’s one in Verden, but it’s a two day ride.”

“Shit! I don’t think Kid could make it.”

McCabe looked at Heyes and seemed to make up his mind. “I’ll help you get Kid inside then we’ll figure out what to do.”

Heyes saw the sense in the words and began to ease Curry off the horse. McCabe took Curry’s legs as Heyes pulled him from the saddle; Curry murmured but didn’t come to. McCabe and Heyes carried Curry into the house and laid him on a bed in a room just inside the front door. McCabe pulled back the blankets as Heyes lowered his partner on to the bed. Curry groaned and opened his eyes. “Heyes, what’s going on?”

“You’re safe, Kid, just try to get some rest, everything’s going to be all right.”

“Water, could I have some water?”

“Sure.” Heyes turned round to ask McCabe but the older man was already leaving the room. “I’ll get it Heyes, you stay with Kid.”

McCabe returned in less than a minute with a pitcher of water and a glass. He handed both items to Heyes who poured some water in to the glass, and using his other hand, propped Curry up and helped him drink some of the liquid. Heyes began to strip Curry’s clothes from his body but Curry didn’t make any move to help, he didn’t resist either which Heyes decided to take as a good sign that Kid was coherent enough to know that he was trying to help him.

Finally Curry lay clothed only in the bottom half of his long johns. McCabe had made a few trips in and out of the room. While Heyes struggled to get Kid undressed and under the blankets, the older man had placed a basin of cold water on the small table beside the bed and he had put a few clean cloths beside it. Heyes dipped one of the cloths in the water and bathed Kid’s forehead with it but the action didn’t elicit any response from his partner.

Heyes turned his attention to McCabe, who was standing in the doorway. “What should I do?”

The older man advanced into the room. “Kid needs help but I don’t think he will make it if we have to send for Doc Ryan.”

Heyes fastened his brown eyes on McCabe “Is there anybody else in town who can help?”

McCabe rubbed his hand over his bearded chin as if trying to conjure a doctor out of thin air. “No, that’s why I had such a problem convincing Doc Bloom to go to San Francisco; he couldn’t get a replacement doctor to come here and he didn’t want to leave but eventually he agreed he needed some time off and Frank Donald, the blacksmith, is pretty good at fixin’ broken limbs and Mrs Ryan has been deliverin’ babies for years, but you need the doc for what ails Kid.”

Heyes didn’t know whether to laugh or cry; he had never heard Hank utter so many sentences at one time, and most strikingly of all, the man was stone sober.

McCabe seemed to read his thoughts. “I ain’t had a drop of liquor in nearly two years, Heyes, and that’s the God’s own truth.”

Hank’s sobriety left Heyes’s mind. “There must be something I can do” he said thinking aloud as he continued to bathe Kid’s face with a damp cloth.

“Doc’s not here but his books are, and if I remember rightly, you always had your head stuck in one when you wasn’t playing cards on your trips to town.”

“What?” Heyes asked distractedly.

“Doc Bloom has a whole room full of books; calls it his library.” The last word came out as if it had been pulled by a rope. “I’ve seen him read some of them when he has a difficult case. Why just last winter the Thompson kid was bought in with a dreadful fever and no one, including Doc Bloom, knew what was causing it but the doc, he went to his book room and stayed there reading for hours while the boy’s Ma nursed him. I don’t know what he found out and I can’t remember what Doc called the disease but I do know he cured the Thompson kid. Everybody including Preacher Joyce said it was a miracle but Doc Bloom said it was his books. I remember he said there ain’t no information that you can’t find in a book.”

Heyes looked at McCabe then at his partner and made up his mind. “Show me the library, Hank.”  
“Sure will, Heyes.”

McCabe opened the door almost reverently and stood aside but didn’t enter. Heyes’s eyes widened as he took in the wooden shelves that ran from floor to ceiling on three sides of the room, with only the fourth wall where the doorway was, free from shelves. For a moment Heyes felt daunted; even if the information to save Kid was contained in a book in this room how would he find it in time? McCabe cleared his throat but didn’t come into the room. “I’ll do what I can for Kid while you find what you need.”

Heyes stepped further into the room and stood for a moment to let his eyes adjust to the gloom. It was late afternoon now but there were no windows in the room so it was much darker here than in the rest of the house. Heyes saw a large oak desk pushed up against the wall beside the door. He made his way to it and fished in the pocket of his vest to produce matches. He raised the glass on the large oil lamp, which stood on the desk, and once he adjusted the flame to his liking, he took in his surroundings more carefully. There was an over-stuffed leather chair against the desk, which was clear, except for a leather frame that held a clean piece of blotting paper, and to the right of that were about twenty sheets of blank paper. In front of the blotting pad stood an inkwell with two pots of black ink and several writing implements.

Heyes took the lamp and began a slow walk around the room. He stood close to the shelves and held the lamp at face level as he read the titles on the spines of the books. He recognized a few titles by Mark Twain but these books were different from the cheap tatty copies he had travelled with in his saddle bag. He couldn’t resist lifting one from the shelf and running his fingers over the black leather bindings and the tooled gold lettering on the front. He opened it and sighed with pleasure at the strong pages of dark black print. He ran his fingers over the words as if trying to let his fingers hear the feel of the written words which gave him such pleasure. He closed the book abruptly and placed it back on the shelf standing snugly against its companions. Mark Twain would not help his partner. For a few moments he was gripped again by a feeling of helplessness as he read authors’ names and titles but he steeled himself with a resolve that Kid needed him and he and Kid never let each other down.

Heyes reconnoitred the room the same way he would have done a bank he was aiming to rob and his methodical way paid off when he realized that the good doctor had a system to the organization of his books, so that in twenty minutes, Heyes had figured out where the novels, the classics and the poetry books sat and where the medical text books stood. He smiled softly as he began studying the titles on the book spines. What the Hell was ‘Anatomy’ ? Heyes took a large book from the shelf and went to the desk but after a few minutes of studying the intricate diagrams of body parts, he realized this was not what he was looking for and returned it reluctantly to its place on the shelf.

Heyes lost all track of time as he continued his quest for the book that might hold the knowledge to save his partner’s life. He pushed another large tome away from him and rubbed his eyes. He rested his head on his crossed arms and closed his eyes.

Heyes awoke with a start and a large pang of guilt burrowed its way through his entrails; how the Hell could he sleep when his best friend was depending on him to save his life? Spurred on by guilt he took the book from the desk and returned it to a shelf where he retrieved several more volumes and brought them to the desk.

Hank returned to Curry’s room with a cup of steaming coffee in his hand. He sat down beside the bed and studied the man who lay there. Kid Curry, the name seemed to fit him so well, for the man before him appeared not far out of boyhood, and with golden curls set against light brown hair, it was easy to imagine how his name had come to settle on him. Curry was restless in the throes of a great fever and the very restlessness lent a youthful look to his features. Curry might have the body of a strong man, but lying there he looked vulnerable, and a shadow of the beautiful child he must have been clung to him.

Hank put his cup down and once again bathed Curry’s face, neck and chest with a cool damp cloth. It offered little relief to either the patient or the carer but it was all that Hank could do. Curry stirred and his fever bright eyes locked on Hank. “Heyes, where’s Heyes?”

“Hush, Kid, Heyes is trying to find out what medicine to give you. You just rest, he’ll be here soon.”

Curry grabbed Hank’s arm with his right hand and the older man was surprised at the strength of the fingers which closed over his. “Get Heyes, I’ve got to see him.” And then as quickly as Kid’s hand had latched on his, it was gone but his blue eyes seemed to clear of fever and looked at Hank.

“I’ll get him, Kid. You just hang on.”

Heyes sat reading from a small book he had found called ‘Fevers and How to Treat Them’ by Dr. Caleb William Norrell. He was halfway through the volume and so far he had been introduced to ways to abate ‘Childbed Fevers’, ‘Childhood Fevers’ and ‘Snake Bite Fevers’ and he was just about to close the book and move on when he noticed a few pages of handwritten notes pressed between the last few pages of the book. He drew the sheets of paper out. They were in what Heyes assumed was Doctor Bloom’s handwriting, which he recognized from various notes he had found in other books. The writing was clear. “Blood poisoning from a severe cut is usually caused by dirt from the implement which caused the wound not being washed thoroughly from the wound site. Severe cases of blood poison can lead to amputation of the affected part ie. – a limb – hand or foot – and in many cases to death. Amputation is not always successful and in many cases causes death rather than prevents it and in some cases is not an option as the cut may be on the torso or head.Having spoken to several Indian Medicine Men and some women who act as natural Healers, over the years I am convinced that some of their remedies are more potent and effective than the remedies I learned in medical school or studied in books like the ones mentioned here by the pompous sounding “Caleb William Norrell”!  
I have consigned several to paper and I am marking with a star any that I have found useful. I will file them in this dreadful book so that they are easily accessible; after all how could I forget a name like “Caleb William Norrell”?”

Heyes laughed out loud. The good Dr. Bloom was sounding more and more like a man Heyes would like to meet. Heyes turned the page but before he could begin to read more than a few plant names, McCabe appeared at the door.

“Heyes, Kid is asking for you. His fever is worse and I think you should come and see him.”

Heyes rose from the chair and went past McCabe and into Curry’s room. Heyes sat on the side of the bed being careful not to touch against the injured man’s arm. Curry’s eyes were closed and Heyes reached out and took his friend’s right hand. Curry’s eyes fluttered open.

“Heyes?”

“I’m right here, Kid.”

“I wanted to see you.”

“I know, Kid. I was just in another room figuring out how to fix this.”

“And did you figure it out?”

“Just about, but you have to trust me, if I stay here with you, you’re going to get sicker. I’m going to brew you up something that’ll fix you right up but I need some time to do that.” Heyes wrung the excess water out of the cloth lying in the bowl beside the bed and used it to wipe away the rivulets of perspiration on Curry’s forehead.  
“Remember how when I was planning a job, you’d keep the boys away from me and let me get on with it? Well, I need you to do that now. You need to keep Hank here so that he doesn’t distract me. Can you do that, Kid? I know it’s asking a lot with you feeling so poorly but that’s what I need you to do.”

Kid smiled at Heyes, even in his feverm he knew what his partner was up to; trying to make him feel part of the team and giving him something to hold on to. Well, if Heyes needed time alone, he would get it.

“Sure, Heyes, send Hank back in.”

Heyes sat for a moment just reassuring himself that Kid was still alive. He put the cloth back, stood up, and with one last glance at his partner, he returned to the library. Hank was standing by the desk.

“Did you find anything?”

“I think so but I’ll need a while longer. Does Doctor Bloom have a garden?”

“I tend to the garden and the house but at the end of it, the Doc has a special area that he looks after himself. He left me written instructions on how to look after the plants there while he was gone. Even went so far as to draw pictures of the plants so as I would know what each one needed. Do you want to see them?”

 

“Hank that would be great.”

Hank returned with a sheaf of papers in Doctor Bloom’s handwriting. Hank was right. The doctor’s drawings were impressive; all were clearly labeled and had minute instructions on how they should be looked after. Heyes heaved a sigh of relief and thanked the good doctor for being so methodical.

Heyes turned back to Doc Bloom’s handwritten pages that he’d found in the book and began reading. He read through several pages that were all about ways to reduce fevers but there was nothing pertinent there and he was just beginning to feel the fingers of despair reach out to him when he saw a heading underlined. It read: “Poultices for the reduction of swelling at wound sites; I am listing several poultices, which I have sourced as being helpful in the treatment of certain blood / wound poisonings. In several cases they have turned out to be little short of miraculous in curing certain conditions. “

Heyes read through the first two examples but then his eyes lit up. He had found something to help his partner.

Heyes spent the next forty minutes with an oil lamp in the good doctor’s ‘special garden’ comparing the names of plants from the doctor’s notes with drawings from Hank’s care notes to the living plants themselves. Heyes was meticulous, just as he had been when he was robbing trains and banks. Eventually he was satisfied and returned to Curry’s room to find Hank dozing in a chair beside the sick man’s bed and to find Curry tossing listlessly.

Heyes leaned over his partner. “Kid, I found it. You’re going to be feeling much better soon.” Heyes shook Hank.

The man woke with a start. “Sorry Heyes.”

“Nothing to be sorry for Hank, but I need your help in finding some muslin.”

“Sure, the doc always keeps some to use for poultices and stuff.”

“That’s exactly why I need some.”

“So you found something that will work?”

“I sure hope so, Hank.”

Heyes set about boiling up a mixture of the plants he had taken from the garden, and by the time they had reached a sticky, pasty concoction, the kitchen smelled like rotting vegetation and both Heyes and Hank were grateful for the smell of fresh brewed coffee coming from the cups they held under their noses.

Heyes cut a large piece of muslin and folded it over several times then he used a spoon to spread a paste of the foul smelling plants on to it.  
Curry stirred restlessly as Heyes unwound the bandage on his forearm. Heyes winced in sympathy when he examined the wound. He had never seen such an angry looking cut. Curry’s forearm was red and swollen; Heyes leaned down to sniff the wound and let out a soft breath with relief at not inhaling the stench of gangrene. He applied the large muslin strip to cover the whole forearm ad secured it with strips of cotton bandages. The disgusting smell filled the room and Curry stirred and opened his eyes but they were fever bright and Heyes wondered how much, if any, of the proceedings his friend was taking in.

“Easy, Kid just take it easy.” Heyes sat down in the chair beside the bed. “Hank, why don’t you go to bed and I’ll watch Kid?”

“If you’re sure, Heyes?”

“I’m sure, and thanks for taking us in. I hope you won’t get into trouble with your boss over it.”

“No, Doc Bloom will understand. Don’t you worry about me. Just look after Kid. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Thanks, Hank, it’s nearly morning now.” Heyes took out his pocket watch as he spoke, it showed 3.30. Dawn wasn’t too far off.  
Hank left, closing the door quietly behind him and Heyes settled in for a lonely vigil.

 

Chapter Four

The crowing of Doctor Bloom’s lone rooster didn’t stir Hank as he slept on in a deep slumber. Heyes registered the herald of the new day by rising from the chair and walking to the large window. He pushed back the chequered curtains, which Hank must have closed at some point yesterday and watched the dappled pink skies of a new dawn with tired eyes..

The stench of the poultice had weakened considerably overnight or maybe Heyes had simply become accustomed to it. Curry’s breathing was harsh in the quiet room but Heyes registered the sound as a good one because it meant his partner was still alive.

Heyes pulled the bottom half of the wooden window up and sat on the ledge. He breathed deeply of the fresh air. Except for Curry’s breathing ,the rest of the house was silent and the crow of the rooster fell silent too. Heyes was by nature a night time man; too many years spent frequenting saloons and poker tables had left him with the ability to remain alert all night long. When he had led the ‘Devil’s Hole Gang’, it was not unusual for him to stay up all night working on a plan but somewhere deep within the Kansas child he had been still lived. He closed his eyes and remembered other pink tinged dawns when he had been awakened by his mother’s voice and the smell of baking biscuits. It had all been so simple then and not for the first time he wondered how it had all become so complex.

The sudden quietness in the room broke his reverie and he turned towards the bed with a rising sense of panic. Curry’s breathing had changed. Heyes held his own breath for the few moments it took for Curry’s breathing to once again break the silence with its harshness. Heyes moved to the bed and watched with some alarm as his best friend tossed his head listlessly from side to side on a pillow that was damp with perspiration. Heyes ran the damp cloth over Curry’s forehead and sat gently on the side of the bed.

“Kid, you’ve got to stop scaring me like this.” Kid’s restlessness seemed to ease some under Heyes’s ministrations.

Heyes took Curry’s bandaged arm he knew it was important that the poultice not be disturbed for 12 hours but he had a strong temptation to raise the bandage and see if the redness around the wound had diminished.He over came the impulse by reminding himself of Doctor Bloom’s detailed instructions, which clearly stated that once placed on the wound, the poultice was not to be disturbed for any reason.

Heyes sat for quite a while remembering the shared thread of his partner’s and his life. Memories came unbidden, both good and bad, and it was in that position that Hank found him two hours later.  
Hank entered the room, and with him came the strong aroma of brewing coffee and frying bacon. Hank thrust one of the cups he was holding into Heyes’s hand as he stood beside Heyes and looked at Kid.

Hank took a sip of coffee, and having swallowed it, offered his wisdom “Well, he ain’t no worse and that’s a good sign.”

Heyes took a long gulp of the bitter black liquid “You sound just like Kid.”

“I sure wish I was his age and had his looks” Hank said with a smile in his voice.

“Yeah, he never has any trouble attracting the ladies but trouble follows Kid, you know what I mean?”

“It seems to me trouble followed both you boys but somehow you always seemed to get out of it.”  
Heyes drank his coffee but didn’t say anything else.

“I have bacon and eggs cooking, I think it would be safe to leave Kid alone for a few minutes while we eat. We’ll leave the door open so we will hear him if he needs us.”

Heyes was about to protest but he didn’t, he just stood up, took the cloth from Kid’s forehead and followed Hank to the kitchen.

Heyes ate what Hank set before him but he didn’t taste it. Hank kept a constant flow of chatter on while Heyes ate only interspersing it with silence when he ate or drank anything. After they had cleaned their plates Hank stood up and began gathering the used items. Heyes interrupted Hank’s chatter.

“Why are you helping us, Hank?”

The older man sat down and looked at the ex-outlaw. “I was a drunk, Heyes and everyone knew it. Marge let me hang around the saloon to help out because underneath all her bustle she had a soft spot for me just like she had for you and Kid.” Hank looked down at his hands as he continued on. “You and Kid and the rest of the gang would come into town every few months and liven up the place but you were never mean; not like some of the outlaws and cow pokes who came to town. You had your fun and you drank and gambled and poked with the gals but you never hurt nobody. You and Kid often slipped me a few dollars and I remember once when a ramrod from one of the cattle drives, a mean fellow by the name of Nelson was pretending to be a big man by making me look small well Kid just happened to come down the stairs from Trixie’s room. Nelson had his gun drawn and was pointing it at me, and I was halfway to being drunk but sober enough to feel mighty scared. Nelson was always acting the ‘big man’ and all the saloon gals hated him because he had a mean streak that was the width of his body. He was telling me to pick up all the spittoons and carry them outside but he knew I was too drunk to do that without dropping the darn things everywhere, but then Kid Curry appeared. Kid didn’t say nothing at first, just kind of took in the scene in front of him and he raised his voice just enough to get everyone’s attention. I remember he asked Nelson what he was doing, and although I was half drunk I remember him saying he was having fun and that it wasn’t nobody’s business but his. I remember Kid got this look in his eyes and suddenly people stopped talking and the piano player stopped.”

“I don’t remember that.” Heyes interrupted.

“You weren’t there that night, anyways, Kid he came on down the stairs and a path seemed to clear itself before him and Nelson.  
Kid told Nelson I was a friend of his and I remember Nelson laughing and pointing to me, saying “That old drunk don’t have no friends, don’t think he’s even got a name.”

“I remember looking at Nelson and Kid and wondering what was going to happen and Kid, you know what he said, Heyes?”  
But Hank didn’t give Heyes time to answer just carried on, but with a far away look in his eyes.

“Kid, he stood there calm as a river before a storm and he said, “His name’s Hank McCabe ad he’s a friend of mine so unless you want more trouble than you can handle I’d advise you to find another saloon to drink in.”

“I swear, Heyes, Nelson was so angry he turned bright red. He turned his attention to Kid and although he had his gun in his hand he never got a chance to use it as Kid drew his Colt so fast and had it pointing at Nelson, well, I guess Nelson knew he had lost so he just melted away and Kid bought a round of drinks for everyone and we all got back to doing what we were doing.

“By the time I sobered up the next day, Kid and the boys had left town so I never got the chance to thank him See, Heyes, this is my way of saying thanks.” Hank bustled about with the used dishes.

Very quietly Heyes asked him. “What about the reward? We’re worth 10,000 dollars a piece. It must have crossed your mind, Hank.”

Dishes clattered to the table as Hank spun around to face Heyes, his eyes blazing with more life than Heyes had ever seen in them. “I was a drunk for most of my life but by chance Doctor Bloom stopped overnight in the hotel beside ‘The Lucky Bell’ and he picked me up out of the gutter, paid for a hotel room for me and next day when I was sober enough to listen, told me he could help me but only if I wanted help, and by God, I did. I went through the fires of Hell to get sober with Doc at my side and I have a good life now, Heyes. It’s nothing exciting but it’s good. I earn an honest living and I’m respected in town, and once a month I meet up with the widow Kennedy at the Church social. Who knows, maybe some day we’ll marry but I wouldn’t swap what I’ve got for anything and that includes blood money on men I respect.”

“Sorry, Hank, but I had to know, Kid is in no position to protect himself so I just needed to be sure he was safe.”

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for, Heyes, it was a fair question but you and Kid have nothing to fear from me.”

Heyes stuck out his hand and shook Hank’s hand with a strong grip. Heyes turned to go but stopped. “You know Kid never told me that story.”

Hank smiled.

Heyes spent the morning in Kid’s room, reading a copy of the local newspaper from the week before and tending to a sleeping Curry. Hank came in around noon, bringing with him a sweet smelling concoction which he had brewed up from some dried herbs, that the doctor kept as an aid to reducing fever. Between Heyes and Hank they managed to get Kid propped up in bed and coaxed him into drinking some of the brew, which obviously tasted dreadful if Kid’s reaction was anything to go by.

Hank took Heyes’s coffee cup and returned a few minutes later bringing him a fresh one. He stood awkwardly at the foot of the bed and began speaking, taking up where he had left off that morning.

“You know I travelled with Doc Bloom a few days after I sobered up. He gave me a job, a place to live and his friendship. It took me almost a year to get over the drinking and even now there are days when I ache for some rot gut but once I sorted myself out I wrote to Marge just to let her know I was all right. That was almost a year ago. Anyways she wrote back and in her letter she told me you boys didn’t call into town anymore and that there was a rumor that you and Kid had left the ‘evil’s Hole Gang’ and were trying to go straight. Is that true, Heyes?”

Heyes pondered for a few moments; very few people knew of the arrangement between them and the Governor, but he decided that Hank deserved to know the truth. “Hank, do you remember Lom Trevors, he rode with the gang in the early days?”

“No, Heyes can’t say that I do.”

“Well, he got out of the out law business and became a sheriff. A while back we approached him about getting an amnesty and he talked to the Governor. We made a deal to stay out of trouble, and if we do, then the Governor will give me and Kid amnesties and we won’t be wanted anymore; the only problem is we have to keep the deal secret.”

“That’s great news, Heyes, and I know you can do it. You’re real smart and Kid ain’t no killer.”

At 3.30 in the afternoon Hank stood beside the bed with a bowl containing another poultice of the same evil smelling concoction. Kid had drifted in a fitful sleep for the day. Heyes removed the used poultice with an air of expectancy; it reminded him of the numerous times he had stood with Kid at his side as the last tumbler fell into place in a safe. He pulled the cloth away from the wound gently and it came away easily but seeing the wound, disappointment showed in his brown eyes. The wound didn’t look much better; it was still angry, red and swollen. Heyes felt a sudden irrational need to hit out at something or somebody.

Hank broke the silence “It probably just needs another poultice, and we have one here.”

“Yeah, you’re right, it said it might take two applications in the doctor’s notes.”

Even as he spoke, Heyes was remembering the doctor’s writings, describing the poultices as ‘miraculous. Where was the miracle when Kid needed it? He didn’t bother praying, hadn’t done so since the massacre of his family a long time ago. He just got on with doing the practical things of re-applying a poultice and trying to get a semi-conscious Kid to drink a little of the doc’s fever cure.

Hank rose and put his hand on Heyes’s shoulder as he passed him. An hour later Hank put his head in the door. “I caught a couple of rabbits yesterday before you boys turned up so I’ve made a stew of them.Come and get it while it’s hot.”

“I’m not hungry, Hank.”

“You might not be hungry, Heyes but Kid won’t be too happy with me when he wakes up and sees you looking like death warmed on a smoky camp fire.”

Heyes tried to appease Hank by eating the stew but he didn’t do it much justice so after low mutterings and a cup of coffee, Heyes was released from the kitchen like he was an exceptionally irksome schoolboy.

He returned to his vigil beside his partner. The day turned to evening only disturbed by Hank’s visits to close the window and the curtains and to bring Heyes several cups of coffee that were strong enough to almost numb his taste buds. Heyes looked up to again find Hank in the room and realized he must have dozed off. Something pricked at his consciousness, there was something different in the stillness of the room that couldn’t be accounted for by Hank’s presence. Snoring; it was the sound of soft snores coming from Curry. Heyes bolted up from the chair and laughed out loud. “His fever has broken, Hank, he’s sleeping.”

Hank moved closer to the bed as Heyes verified his diagnosis by feeling his partner’s forehead, and much to his relief found it was cool.“You’re right, Heyes, the fever’s gone.”

Hank tried to persuade Heyes to go to bed in a room he had prepared for him but Heyes refused, saying that he’d keep watch just to be sure Kid didn’t need anything and finally persuaded Hank to go to bed. Once he was alone again with his partner Heyes sat in the chair and just watched the rise and fall of Kid’s chest as he slept peacefully for the first time in days. Heyes hadn’t admitted to Hank his real reasons for not leaving his partner’s side and they were twofold. First of all he realized how disconcerting it is to wake after a fever in a strange place and get your bearings; it was a thing which both partners tried to shield each other from whenever one of them was sick or injured, although neither one would ever come right out and say that, and secondly, Heyes needed the reassurance of seeing Kid getting better and that was another thing he would never acknowledge to his partner in the clear light of day.

Daybreak was once again heralded by the loud greeting of the lone cockerel. Heyes heard it through his dreams and he awoke and stretched. His back and neck ached from his cramped sleeping position on the chair. He repeated the actions of the morning before by opening the curtain and the window. It was going to be a beautiful day. He turned back to the bed and a huge grin lit up his face as he saw Kid’s blue eyes staring at him.

“You’re awake?” Heyes asked as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“Could I have some water?”

“Sure.” Heyes helped Kid sit up and poured water into a glass beside the bed, which he held to Kid’s lips as his partner took a gulp of the liquid.

“Not too much now” Heyes said quietly as he removed the glass.

“Heyes, I have just one question .Do I look as bad as you?”

“Worse.” Heyes grinned.  
____________________________________________________________________  
Epilogue

Heyes and Hank had a hard time persuading Kid to stay in bed for three days but they did. Kid was glad of the rest though he would never admit It and when he did manage to get out of bed, he felt pretty light headed but he hid it from Hank and tried to hide it from his partner without success. The men had been partners far too long to be able to hide much of anything from each other. Heyes spent the days sitting beside Kid’s bed reading several books he’d borrowed from the doctor’s library and every once in a while he would read aloud from a story that he thought might interest Kid. All in all it was probably one of the few most enjoyable and relaxing days the ex-outlaws had had in quite a while. Hank was a competent cook and soon Kid’s appetite returned and he was able to do justice to the dishes put in front of him.

Heyes and Kid told Hank how Kid had been hurt but none of them was able to form a suitable opinion as to why Curry had been attacked, and it was Heyes who finally put the issue to bed when he said that since they were still wanted men, anybody had a right to kill them. It was a sobering thought, and after thinking for a while, it was Curry who broke the silence which had settled on the three men.

“There was so much hatred in the eyes of the young man who attacked me that I hate to think how I must have wronged him or his kin for him to feel that way. I know we never killed anybody when we robbed trains or banks but we never really thought about how we frightened people. It was all a game to us, Heyes, well, maybe it wasn’t a game to that young man or to someone he cared about. I just hope that something we did didn’t turn him into a killer.”

“Kid, it’s not like you to get all riled up about our past” Heyes said.

“I know but I’ve had nothing much else to do for the last few days but think about what happened and I keep seeing his eyes as he lunged for us.”

“Kid, we can’t change the past .All we can do is work on making a better future.”

“I’ll drink a toast to that” Hank said as he lifted his cup of coffee.


End file.
